


my (he)art is yours for the taking

by Jsscshvlr



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Artist MJ, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Identity Reveal, MJ is having a bad day send tweet, spidey likes dumpsters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:21:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28969761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jsscshvlr/pseuds/Jsscshvlr
Summary: She could blame the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day. She could blame the fact she had a headache. She could do the annoying guy thing and blame it on her period. Whatever the reason - she gathers up all the artwork that she could find. She rips sketches off her walls, pulls canvases from under her bed and grabs all the books she could carry, stomps down to the dumpster at the back of her building and throws them all in.ORMJ is having a bad day. Spider-Man reaps the rewards.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 42
Kudos: 139





	my (he)art is yours for the taking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justmattycakes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmattycakes/gifts).



> happy birthday, matty!  
> i hope you have a lovely day! (it's after midnight here and we know my sleeping pattern is trash) 
> 
> thank you as always to Hyp xxxxxxx

“Eurgh.” Michelle groans out in frustration. She’s been working on a pencil drawing for hours and she couldn't get it right and she definitely couldn’t figure out where it was going wrong. Was the perception off? Maybe. Was the anatomy wrong? It’s possible. Could she figure it out? No. 

She could blame the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day. She could blame the fact she had a headache. She could do the annoying guy thing and blame it on her period. Whatever the reason - she gathers up all the artwork that she could find. She rips sketches off her walls, pulls canvases from under her bed and grabs all the books she could carry, stomps down to the dumpster at the back of her building and throws them all in. 

“Good riddance.” She shouts to no one as she dusts her hands off like she’s just killed a guy in a dodgy made for TV movie. With a self-righteous head nod and a lift of her chin, she walks back to her apartment with purpose. If she looks a little ridiculous in her fluffy slippers, no one calls her out on it.

* * *

“Oh, come on!” He says when his fall into the dumpster jolts the lid shut. He stays down for just a tiny second because there’s no way the lizard hasn’t disappeared into thin air like the last three times he’s seen him. Also, he might be slightly injured - just his ribs nothing insane. 

He keeps his eyes closed even though it's dark because with his advanced vision he would be able to see and he definitely does not need to see the garbage he's lying on, and he’s so tired. The adrenaline from the fight doesn’t let him linger too long though and he opens his eyes bracing himself to see if he’s laying in old food or something worse.

“What? This is amazing -” he stops when he realises he’s talking to no one but looking around there’s clearly dozens of pieces of artwork here. 

“Has someone thrown this away? Karen - what do you think?”

“I think someone has thrown these away as they are currently in a dumpster, Peter.”

“Thanks, Karen.” He replies by flipping the lid open so he can properly see what’s here.

“Woah. I’m taking this one. I can do that right? Is garbage technically free? Karen?”

“It’s technically illegal -”

“Okay, thanks, Karen.” He cuts her off and knows he’s going to regret that when he next needs her help. Technically illegal and wrongly illegal are different, right? Either way, his apartment is bare and he’s broke and these are dope.

He hops out the dumpster and runs to the bodega across the street to ask for a bag. They give him a look because he’s not buying anything but he did save them from a robbery last week so they relent. He fills the bag with all the artwork he can find, small sketches, sketchbooks and large canvases. 

“I wonder if this is how Felicia feels.” He says, swinging back to his apartment, bruised ribs forgotten. 

* * *

Okay, so no. Throwing out all of her artwork and sketchbooks was not her finest move. Yes, she is now regretting it mere hours later. Running down to the dumpster to get them back out hopefully without too many grease stains on them, she looks in and sees - nothing but garbage. 

“Fuck!” She says because she accidentally lent too far on the edge of the bin and has also lost years worth of artwork. She goes to kick the dumpster in petty rage but remembers the fluffy slippers and stops because she doesn’t want a broken toe to go with this awful day. 

“Are you okay?” She spins at the voice to see two people, probably a couple but she can’t be sure, at the edge of her building. People walking past and asking if someone is okay, in New York? In this economy? Must be tourists. 

“Fine, thanks.” She musters a small smile at them and forgets her arms are still leaning against the dumpster. There’s a burning sensation behind her eyes and she tries not to give in to it and she sighs in recognition that years of artwork are gone. 

“If you’re looking for the paintings -” she spins back to the friendly tourists and tries not to look too eager, “- we saw Spidey take them earlier.” The guy says and she realises he has a New York accent, so maybe they’re just kind. 

“Fuck.”

“Maybe you could put something on Twitter about it?” The woman says, and huh - she’s cute, should she ask for her number?

“Twitter is just another way for the government to track you and for corporations to sell you shit.” And well, shit, that was rude.

“Right. Hope you find them.” And they’re off. Reasonable, Michelle thinks. So, Spider-Man has her artwork - maybe he had to use it mid-fight? She hasn’t actively tried to kill someone before, but, superhero or not, she could probably try if he damaged her art. Yes art that she threw away, whatever, it still counts. 

She huffs, hugs her arms to herself, and walks back to her room grumbling about how she doesn’t want to set up another social media account. 

* * *

“Ned -” he says holding the phone to his ear and hoping the towel doesn’t drop from his hips “- ignoring the dumpster incident for like a second.... I wasn’t even hit that hard… I was paying attention, you sound like May -” he grumbles to his best friend, “- anyway… it wasn’t that hard! I got right back up… uhuh… yeah next time I’ll turn the camera on, traitor.” 

He spends some time getting the artwork out of his bag and trying to figure out where he’s going to put things, while Ned tells him about his date with Betty. Is it too egotistical to put the Spider-Man one in his bedroom? Probably. And if he ever brings someone home they’re just gonna think he’s a massive fanboy.

God, he can’t believe he got so lucky that someone threw all of this out. Why would they? They’re stunning! Some of the art looks like someone would pay hundreds for it, and the more intricate pieces could probably hang in the MOMA! Should he double-check no one is wanting these back? Oh no, what if they just stored them there for a second? He probably should have waited to check. Maybe he should go back tomorrow and put a note up.

Meanwhile, he could still set them up right? Like, they definitely deserve to be on display. Maybe the living area? He considers between two options for the big wall while he waits for Ned to finish giving him a play by play of his and Betty’s conversation. He perks up when Ned mentions that Betty had been to dinner with Michelle this week and he remembers how Ned has been peppering her name into conversations in a not so subtle way.

He thinks Ned wants to double date but that’s so much pressure, he’d rather just meet her casually first so when Ned suggests asking her out again he jumps at the chance to do it on his own terms. 

“Right, yeah did you send me her number? How does Betty even know Michelle?” He asks while hanging some of the pencil drawings on the fridge. 

“And she knows I’m going to text her, right?” He says as he leans the larger canvases against the dining table May found him at a flea market. “No, I won’t be late!” he says annoyed because he can be on time for things. Sometimes. Not very often but Ned knows why and he knows how hard he tries. But then he listens to how Ned explains it’s not about him this time. Ned really likes Michelle and he had to push Betty into letting him set her up with Peter because he knows how perfect they’d be for each other - but he’ll look silly and it will be awkward if Peter messes it up. “Yeah, I know, thanks, Ned.” 

He hangs up a little while later as he places all the artwork around his apartment. Maybe he should give going to a museum another go. He double-checks the bag before he folds and puts it away like May taught him. At the bottom, there are two books which look personal and secretive but he thinks that maybe they’d be a name on the cover? Tentatively opening one of them he sees a small pencil drawing of a man and hundreds of words surrounding it and he can’t - these are personal to someone. It would be an insane breach of trust if he looked through them, so he places them next to the canvas on his table. 

He plops down on his sofa, happy and a little tired as he finds a film to watch. He’s excited and thankful that Ned gave him Michelle’s number - that he’s still trying to set him up with someone. He knows he doesn't deserve the effort with the amount of time he’s bailed on them, or on Ned. But when the world stops, when he isn’t needed for Spider-Man, he has to actively try not to think about how desperately lonely he is. 

When this happens he throws a movie on in an attempt to forget that there’s never anyone to come home too. Sometimes it works and he’ll be enjoying and laughing along and then his heart will lurch at the couple laughing on screen together. He couldn’t tell you what was so funny, but he wants to fall around in laughter over nothing with someone. He’s found himself doing laundry at three am because he can’t bear another night alone and then he imagines what it would be like to do that with someone and he slams the dryer door too hard. 

He hasn’t properly dated anyone since the beginning of college and now he’s in his final year and it just seems so hard. It feels like everyone else has a long term relationship under their belt and he’s barely managed to get a second date. There’s never been anyone he’s felt the so-called connection with, to want to push through getting a beating on patrol and still making it to dinner. He wants to do that. He can never give up Spider-Man, he knows that. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to meet someone that makes the running around worth it on the days when it all just seems too much. 

* * *

She’s sulking. It is what it is. She’s out of ice cream. She can’t get pizza delivered because it’s 3:50 in the morning and even though the takeout doesn’t close until 4, calling and asking or a delivery now is just not something she can reasonably do. 

Also, maybe she’s still put out about throwing all her artwork out. But it’s probably also the lack of pizza. 

Ugh, she can’t believe what she’s done. She could set up a Twitter account, follow Spider-Man, and attempt to get him to see her notification amongst what must be thousands daily. It may not work, but it would be  _ something _ to try to get them back. Or she could just try and forget about them - draw something new. Thankfully she wasn’t foolish enough to throw her materials out as well. 

If she doesn’t think about the fact that she accidentally scooped up her sketchbooks that have all her drawings of her dad in and threw them in the garbage, maybe she won't break down. Her eyes burn with the realisation that the last of her memories of him are gone. Losing him so early in her life was hard enough and she’s always been unfairly mad at the world that her family weren’t ones for photographs. Without the drawings, she can barely think about how long it’s going to be before she forgets what he looked like. Maybe her eyes burn because she lost the only piece of her dad she had left - but she’ll tell herself it’s because it’s almost four am and she has no desire to go to sleep.

Her phone buzzes once bringing her out of her pity party - but then the notifications don’t stop coming. Opening her phone she sees a string of messages from an unknown number. 

(03:52) Hey

(03:52) I’m Peter

(03:54) Parker

(03:54) Ned gave me your number and I’m meant to set up a date

(03:54) With you

(03:54) And me

(03:54) If you want that?

(03:54) Anyway let me know

(03:54) I’m always free!

(03:54) Well not always I have a life

(03:55) And stuff but I can be free for you

(03:55) So

(03:55) Lemme know

(03:57) :) :) :) :) :) 

She finds herself smiling at the earnestness of the texts. She waits a moment before replying in case he wants to send another fifteen texts that say one thing.

(04:06) Do you always send so many texts at four am?

She feels a little bad for being so sarcastic. But honestly, if Betty thought Peter was going to be perfect for her she must have already mentioned her deadpan personality. 

(04:06) Omg

(04:06) Sorry

(04:06) I did it again

(04:06) Sorry

She bites at her lip when his next string of texts come through and she finds it harder to wait a few minutes to check he’s finished. 

(04:10) Peter.

(04:10) Sorry!! Why are you up?

(04:10) Was it me?

(04:11) I’m so sorry

She forgot for a moment why she was awake - too interested in what his next rambling message was going to say. His question brings it all back with a pang, and she sighs and leans back into her couch contemplating getting everything off of her chest but then decides that’s more second date talk. 

(04:14) No, I was awake anyway. 

(04:15) Oh. Okay. 

(04:15) Good.

(04:16) Are you alright?

(04:18) Wait is this Michelle?

(04:18) And are you okay either way?

She chews over his message, wondering whether or not she should just tell him why she’s awake. Would he understand? 

(04:24) You can call me MJ if you keep your texts to one singular message.

(04:24) Nice!

(04:25) Hi MJ. 

(04:25) Dammit.

(04: 29) Sorry, Michelle. 

(04:30) It’s four am. How do you have this much energy? 

(04:34) Well, I’m just not really tired? I’m kind of hungry and when I thought about food I remembered Ned gave me your number and I thought I should introduce myself to see if you wanted to get food with me at some point?

(04:34) I did it!

(04:34) One message

(04:35) :):):):)

She kinda wants to go out now. She hasn’t eaten since the pizza place was very selfishly closing and there’s a twenty-four-hour diner down the street. Hash browns sound really good right now. 

(04: 40) Right now?

She sends and then worries she looks like a bit of a loser that drops everything for a date. A date at four am. Is she going to look like a late-night stalker? Possibly. But he could just say no if he wants. 

(04: 41) Oh, like a breakfast date?

(04: 41) I can be at Terri’s in forty?

(04:42) Meet me in thirty.

She says for no reason other than to be snarky. And maybe she hasn’t been on a date in a while. She can go on dates if she wants. But the people in her college classes are all too pretentious or in far too many classes with her that if it went wrong it would be awkward. So she focused on her work and helping out at the soup kitchen. 

(04:42) Thirty is good. 

She smiles into her cushion hiding from goodness knows who. She knows that she’s meant to be more open with her emotions, or so people always say. But she is an emotional person, like, on the inside. Why should she always have to show that on the outside? Nevertheless, she moves from the couch to get ready for her breakfast date at five am. 

What do you wear to a breakfast date that you’re attending at what could be considered very late booty call time? It’s still dark out, so it’ll be kinda cold even though it’s practically summer now. She settles on jeans and a tank top, with a jumper thrown over the top. That’s casual right? 

She probably shouldn’t have pushed him to be earlier because now she’s rushing around and can’t decide whether or not to put makeup on. On one hand, it’s almost five am so she’s not sure exactly what mascara is going to do for her. On the other, Betty has been so excited about setting her up with Peter. Even going as far as to let them have a date alone before she inevitably has to double date with them if they ever wanted to go on a second date. So she wants to look nice. But then she looks at the clock again and it would be rude to be late when she forced him to be early. So face wash and moisturiser and a second brush of her teeth were going to have to do. 

She’s not into the notion that people have to be pretty to be worthy of anything --time, kindness, love. She’d very readily punch someone in the face if they so much as mentioned anything akin to that thought. But as she pounds across the sidewalk on the way to the diner, she’s the tiniest bit self-conscious. But she’s a bit tired and has had a long day so she thinks that’s okay.

* * *

He’s not going to be late, he thinks, as he runs around the corner. He skids to a stop and attempts to walk at a leisurely pace the rest of the way to the diner so he doesn’t turn up bright red, or out of breath, or sweaty. If he wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and fans his jumper away from his body, no one’s there to call him out on it. 

Someone is walking towards him and if his eyesight wasn’t enhanced he’d be able to pretend she wasn’t the prettiest person he’s ever seen. But alas, he’s burned with that information now. And yet, he doesn’t stare at the way her curls bounce in the early morning light. His gaze doesn’t dip to her legs as she strides towards him, the epitome of grace and fury. He doesn’t think about any of these things because he’s going on a date. And he wants the date to go well, so he can’t spend the first twenty minutes trying to forget the way she flips her hair over her shoulder to remove a headphone. He doesn’t want to disappoint Ned, so he doesn’t react when his stomach flips as she meets his gaze before walking into the diner he’s going to. He wants to impress his date, so he doesn’t take a deep breath when her perfume hits him as he stands behind her waiting to be seated. 

His phone buzzes as he waits for her to find a seat. He smiles at his phone when he sees it from Michelle. 

MJ: Hey, I’m here so I’ll get a table.

His head snaps up and he catches her slide her phone into the back pocket of her jeans. She can’t be Michelle, right? He’s going to start sweating. 

“MJ?” He says, loud enough that she’d be able to hear it but not loud enough that it would be awkward if it’s not her. She spins around. 

“Peter?” Okay. It’s happening. Be cool. 

“Yes, I am he. Peter.” He closes his eyes and wills the date to start over. But his eyes fly open as she laughs gently at him. It’s a lovely sound. 

“Michelle. I am she.” She says with a smirk. He can ask her out on a second date before their first has started, right? 

They slip into a booth away from the door and she immediately grabs a menu. When she looks up at him after an intense staring match between her and the fried food section, he blushes and picks up his own menu. 

“How are you?” He asks without taking his eyes off the menu. Should he get pancakes?

“I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She replies and he thinks there’s a laugh somewhere hidden in her tone but he can’t move his eyes from the page to check.

He hums in response, deep in thought about how he can possibly get through this date without making more of a fool of himself. He chances a look at her from behind his menu and she’s looking right at him, head in her hand, a small smile pulling at her lips. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Hello -” he jumps at the third voice and misses everything the waiter says. He glances back to the menu and waits for MJ to give her order. 

“Hi, please may I have Mexican tofu scramble and a side of hash browns.” Oh, should he go vegetarian too? That’s polite, right? “Oh, and a strawberry iced tea, thank you.” 

“And for you?”

“Erm, waffles please.” He says placing his menu back and then jumping again when he moves his gaze back and the waiter is still looking at him. Michelle is too, and her lip is caught between her teeth and now he’s supposed to concentrate knowing what that looks like? Unreasonable. 

“Anything with your waffles?” The waiter says, not unkindly.

“Fruit and syrup, please. And some eggs. And some hash browns, please. And a strawberry milkshake, sorry thankyou.”

“Are you nervous?” She asks and there’s a glint in her eye he’d be able to see even with his eyes closed. 

“No?”

“Okay.” She says and smiles at him. 

“Yes.” He adds on quickly because it’s difficult not to tell her the truth when she smiles at him. 

“Because you stared at me while walking along the street and now you have to sit in front of me?” 

Oh. Oh no. Not quite as sly as he had hoped. He splutters for a defence that will be useless because she very clearly caught him. 

“No -” he says and he’s unreasonably happy to see the waiter again, as he places their drinks down. He smiles at MJ as she smiles as the waiter in thanks. 

“No, you weren’t looking at me or?” She asks, stirring her drink with her straw. He watches as a few drops spill onto her hand and his eyes unconsciously follow her pulling her fingers to her mouth to lick them clean. He knows his eyes are wide and he is almost definitely the same shade as her drink but he can’t find it in him to care. Or breathe.

“Pardon?” He says breathlessly as he brings his gaze to her face. She laughs lightly again and he’s suddenly desperate to hear her laugh at all volumes. He wonders what it would take to make her throw her head back, what he could say to make her laugh under her breath. 

“Are you okay?”

“You’re  _ really  _ pretty.” He says and then takes a gulp of his milkshake to avoid the glare he thinks she’s giving him - her brows are furrowed in a way that suggests she’s mad but she looks like a chipmunk so he can’t think about anything other than how cute he finds her. 

“Not that - erm, not that, that is the best thing about you. Obviously. And, I’m really excited - if you want to - to get to know the other things about you.” He adds on quickly, eyes widening until her features settle. 

“I’m excited too.” She says quietly. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

It turns out a bad pun will make her laugh under her breath and swear at him all at once. When he tells her the story of how he tried and failed at skateboarding, he finds out she snorts sometimes and he also discovers he wants to make it his ringtone. 

She places her head in her hand and smiles at him with bright eyes when he tells her about the protest he was at last weekend. He doesn’t tell her it was as Spider-Man but he wants to. She reaches across the table for his hand when he talks about Ben. She makes him laugh when he feels too sad to carry on talking about it and she brushes him off when he tries to apologise. 

He realises too slowly that when she takes her hand back, she takes his milkshake with her. He notices when he watches her smile with a strawberry moustache and he laughs heartily at her - a pang in his chest at how thankful he is that she’s here. He swallows down the laughter when she licks the ice cream from her lips.

She rolls her eyes when he tells her all about how Ned has been hyping her up for weeks. She bites her lip when he mentions places he wants to go soon and sure, it may be because those places are where someone might take someone else on a date but whatever. 

Her eyes light up when he says he hasn’t been to MOMA in years and is in desperate need of an art education. His heart beats faster when she explains the new exhibit that is coming up and he can barely control the butterflies in his stomach when she describes how she likes to draw. He wonders if she’d like the artwork he found and put in his apartment. He’s worried she might think that’s inappropriate. But she shuts down slightly when he asks what she last drew so he doesn’t mention it again. 

She gives him some of her tofu scramble and he lets her have one of his waffles. And when she leans across the table to take more of his milkshake with his straw, he notices the freckles he couldn’t see from across the booth.

Ned has been his best friend for as long as he can remember, so he should have known this date would be worthwhile. But he wasn’t anticipating this. He wasn’t prepared to like her as much as he does. As the waiter passes them the bill he’s struck with how badly he doesn’t want her to leave him.

* * *

She likes him. She really likes him. Ultimately she knew she shouldn’t have doubted Betty, she’s one the smartest people she knows and she was so keen for her to go on a date with Peter. And seemingly, she was correct. 

Leaving the diner doesn’t burst the bubble she feels like they’re in in the way she was expecting. She still feels inexplicably happy and there’s an undercurrent of nervousness she doesn’t hate. She wants to ask him out again, trusting her instincts that he has as good of a time as she did. 

Also, she’s pretty sure he alluded to another date rather unsubtly about thirty times over breakfast but still - some confirmation would be nice. 

“So, not to be too forward.” He starts and her heart beats faster, “But I have the day off so if you wanted to come to watch a movie with me I wouldn’t be mad at it.”

“Wouldn’t be mad? Flattering.” She deadpans. 

“I would be ecstatic about it and you know that, Michelle! Let me be cool.” He says with a huff and no resemblance of a pout. 

“But you’re so cute when I call you out.”

“You think I’m cute?!” He says, spinning to face her, walking backwards along the semi-crowded sidewalk. 

“I meant insufferable,” she replies with a smirk. 

“Someone insufferable that you want to watch Palm Springs with?” He says with both his eyebrows raised, and she’s mad at how adorable she finds that. 

“Yes.” She answers a bit too eagerly but it’s fine. She smiles around a yawn and adds, “maybe a nap too.” 

“MJ are you trying to get into bed with me? On date one?” He says placing his hand on his chest. 

“Shut up, dork.” She replies and goes to lightly shove his shoulder but he grabs her hand before it connects and he pulls her to him. He’s annoyingly pretty this close and he smells like syrup and ice cream and she desperately wants to kiss him. 

“I  _ was _ looking at you.” He whispers as he lightly places his hands around her waist. He leans towards her, eyes flitting between hers and her lips. She meets him halfway, lacing her arm behind his neck and pulling him closer until their noses brush and she says, “called it.” 

He goes to move back in protest and she pulls him back to her with a hand on the back of his neck. His hands slide up her back to hold her closer to him. 

She feels unfairly warm when their lips meet. It’s soft and light, like the sunrise on her closed eyelids. He pulls back slightly and his nose rests against hers. He tastes like sugar and she hopes she tastes as pleasant but he presses his lips to hers again with more pressure so she assumes it’s fine. 

When his tongue touches her lip she remembers they’re in the middle of the sidewalk and as she opens her eyes, she sees the flurry of commuters they’re in the way of. So she unhooks her arms and laughs lightly as his eyebrows furrow, “come on. We’re in the way.” His eyes fly open as if he also forgot where they were. 

He spins so they’re facing the same way, and his fingers brush against hers enough times that she rolls her eyes and laces them through hers. 

“Thanks.” He says shyly and she has to resist the urge to roll her eyes for a different reason.

“So, Palm Springs and a nap?” He says, squeezing her fingers. 

“Lead the way, nerd.” She replies in what is supposed to be nonchalance, but he turns to smile at her at the last minute and her voice wavers. But if you ask her if she was breathless, she’ll deny it. 

* * *

As he unlocks his front door he has to move his jaw around to lessen the ache from smiling so hard the entire way home. He liked Michelle from the get-go - before he even knew it was her. But as the date descended into the two of them free-falling into the state of being overtired, he couldn’t help but fall for her every time she closed her eyes for a beat too long. Or how after she started yawning, she had more trouble hiding the smiles from him. 

He’s not sure how he ended up giving her a piggyback home. She somehow simultaneously asked him to carry her and gave him a ten bullet-point breakdown on why she could walk herself but it’d be better if he carried her. He agreed with her as he boosted her onto his back. 

He wasn’t mad at the feeling of having her wrapped around his body. And he certainly won’t complain if she wants to compliment his muscles ever again. Or if she wants to place kisses to his temple every time she feels bad that he’s carrying her but also glad that she doesn’t have to walk. 

“Maybe we should nap first?” She’d said halfway to his apartment and he couldn’t really argue with her. Not that he felt anywhere near tired now. Not when she’s this close to him. He could probably fight dinosaurs right now and still be alert afterwards. 

He goes to place her on her feet as he steps into his place, but she doesn’t move when he releases his arms. 

“MJ?”

“Where -” she starts and he feels her swallow thickly “- where did you get those.” She asks pointing to the artwork on his walls. Ha ha, success! He was hoping that the art would make him seem more mature and well rounded but he hadn’t expected this response. She drops from his back to go and look at the one he hung on the wall.

“I found them! In -” a dumpster. He wants to say but also he doesn’t want her to know why he was in a dumpster. “They were on the street. I was going to set up like, I dunno, I was hoping to find whoever made them - can you believe someone wanted to throw them away!” He says with a wave of his hand.

* * *

“Was there anything else with the paintings?” She asks with a desperation she tries to hide. 

“Yeah! Two sketchbooks that I opened one page off to look for a name but I couldn't see one and it seems too personal to go through it.” He says running his hand through his hair and she has to bite her lip to stop from smiling too wide. Half at the fact that her foolish idea to throw all her artwork out because she couldn't get the perspective right was thankfully not a disaster. And half at the guy in front of her. 

“That would be rude, right? I just - these are insane! Look at this one -” he says, grabbing her hand to take her to the fridge where she sees all her smaller doodles and drawings pinned under NYC magnets. 

“This one is so pretty! Can you imagine being able to draw? My brain cannot comprehend it.” He says, looking dreamily at the drawing of an improv group she saw in Central Park. She runs her thumb across his hand that still holds on to her. 

His gaze drops to the action and he links his fingers with hers. She’s too excited to see where he’s placed everything to be embarrassed by her increased heart rate. 

“Oh - also! Look at this.” He says taking her over to the dining table where he seems to have set up the canvas of Spider-Man’s face and as she laughs at his ramble about how the colours are so close to the suit and that he’s never seen this much detail in a painting before she remembers what the maybe tourists, maybe just friendly residents, said about who took the artwork. 

She takes a moment to let the information sink in before she does anything drastic. Should she tell him she knows? Could she someone tell him it’s her artwork without letting him know his super-secret identity is no longer a secret to her? For a selfish second, she thinks about how he might not want to see her again if she knew - like maybe it would be too much for him. But then she remembers how he stopped a train with his hands last week and she figures he deserves the truth.

“You know, when I threw these out earlier and then almost immediately regretted it and ran back to the dumpster to get them out -” she starts, watching as his eyes widen, “- this cute couple told me they saw Spider-Man take it.” 

“These are yours?” He says with a kind of awe she’s not used to having directed at her. She nods and drops his hand so she can thread her hands through his hair as she waits for the penny to drop. 

“You’re incredible - the drawings, I mean -” he says, placing his hands on her waist, pulling himself a little closer, “ - well and you a little bit as well.” She drops her eyes to his lips in question and he leans forwards in answer. As their noses brush he abruptly pulls back with a shocked look on his face. 

“Erm - about the -” he starts. And there it is. 

She smiles at him and as her lips brush his again she says, “At least you didn’t put the portrait in your bedroom.” 

“I thought about it for an embarrassingly long time.” He whispers against her lips but doesn’t move forwards. She’ll wait for him. 

“Is this okay?” He asks and she knows that he’s asking about more than the kiss. She can tell that this isn't a first date conversation, that things like this come up (to be fair very rarely but still) when a relationship is built on trust and respect and a lot more time than a two-hour breakfast date. 

But as she looks at him as he waits patiently for her, with nervousness in his eyes she doesn’t enjoy - she can’t help but think about all the future possibilities with him, if she was brave enough to take the leap. Whether it’s a date to MOMA, a double date with Betty and Ned, maybe even a swing through the city or they could finally take a nap - she doesn't mind, she’s excited for all of it. She smiles and leans towards him -  “yeah, Spidey, this is more than okay.” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Wake, I'm never thinking of a title alone again, hope you can understand. 
> 
> come say hi on tumblr! i-lovethatforme


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